Stalemate

Gazing into the cheval glass A catch of a shining icon, An Emitted lucid container Lento crusading towards the adjacent cast, Graciously through a thready passage The fourth dimension descending onwards Inverted, more and then some more, A story retold as seasons retire, one by one Plunged by the backwash towards an inevitable moment I'm still standing on the same spot though Still no more judicious thoughts Same old same Lacking behind Turning around in my own grave..